1.15.2014

today can be over already

Today was hard. Today hurt and stung and seemed to never end but eventually it did, with Ethan telling me he was "upset with mommy." Because when you're hunched over the toilet puking (remember last week when I said I felt awesome? Alright, first trimester, you got me!) and your kid sneaks off to destroy his favorite tot tray and the end result is all your fault and he didn't have any fun today and "I'm upset with you, mommy," it stinks. And stings. And makes me sit on the couch an hour after his bedtime fighting back the urge to cry -- poorly -- out of guilt. Mom guilt, and wife guilt of the "when are you coming home? Come home now because I'm losing it!" phonecall variety.

The past week in particular has been harder -- more nausea, more fatigue -- and Ethan has been cutting his two year molars. This "cutting his two year molars" process doesn't seem to want to end and my poor child spends all day with his hands in his mouth crying that his teeth hurt. "Kiss it, mommy. It hurts. I have a booboo in my mouth." In the middle of the night last night, he added booboos to his tummy and tushy to the mix and I spent this morning first puking and then at the pediatrician's office watching the pediatrician give Ethan a glowing report of health and wellness. "But he was up all night screaming, inconsolable, I promise!" We left with a confirmation that these two year molars are slowly wreaking havoc on my typically sweet child. We left the pediatrician's office with Ethan begging to push the buttons on the elevator, passing by kids with real illnesses and fevers and snot and coughs, and with the desire to spend the rest of the day doing nothing. We both did. After a stop on the way home to visit The Magic Ponies -- ponies, ones I can't remember how they became magical in the first place -- that helped Ethan feel better, we both spent today laid up on the couch. Ethan insisted upon eating our home out of pomegranates and brown pears (the only acceptable type), me sipping on seltzer and praying for relief. Or energy. Or that gust of "I know you don't feel well, but let's have an awesome day!" that I'm usually good for. Only today I wasn't good for it.

But tonight there are Sour Patch Kids and then, well, there's always tomorrow.